Angelfang123423

I'm closer than I've ever been to giving up. This brink, its narrow orifice; the abyss darker than black itself, scares me. Years ago, I never would've thought I would resort to cutting myself. Starving, for that next release of pain. For the sting brought by the razor as it cuts across my skin. I never thought, my body would be covered with scars. That I would be like a walking jigsaw. I never thought, that I would steal razorblade gather scissors in multitudes dissect pencil sharpenersand rob them of their blades. I never thought, that I would want to take my own life, as badly as I do right now.

But right now it was all she could think about: her question, will you at least tell me why you won't tell me? And his answer: because it's personal. The blackness had descended like a blanket. Thick. Suffocating. It's personal. He might as well have just said, unlike you I don't tell everyone every little detail about my life. My heart's tucked away where no one can see, I don't wear it on my sleeve; you're stupid to think I'll give away my secrets for free. She steps into the bathroom, locks the door behind her. The click of the mechanism resonates faintly, voicing a note of finalty. It was going to happen now, there was no going back.

one little scratch is all i want. and then another and another. just one more, until my skin is seething with cuts and scars. i look at this girl in the mirror. i know she's me, but i don't recognize her, and the cicatrices and wounds she wears like armour are also unfamiliar to me. i slowly destroy myself. one by one. bit by bit. a droplet of blood to another. scar by scar, [i unravel myself until i disappear.] this girl, she's pathetic. she's disgusting. she's addicted. she's my reflection, she's me. you've no idea how many times a day that i look at her. and wish she would just die. leave me be

one little scratch is all i want. and then another and another. just one more, until my skin is seething with cuts and scars. i look at this girl in the mirror. i know she's me, but i don't recognize her, and the cicatrices and wounds she wears like armour are also unfamiliar to me. i slowly destroy myself. one by one. bit by bit. a droplet of blood to another. scar by scar, [i unravel myself until i disappear.] this girl, she's pathetic. she's disgusting. she's addicted. she's my reflection, she's me. you've no idea how many times a day that i look at her. and wish she would just die. leave me be

I stole a razorblade. From a store. It's what I use to cut with now. I've used everything from glass, scissors, pencil sharpener blades, safety pin, soda can, bottle caps, knives . . It's from a knife, actually, that I obtained the trio of scars on my left forearm. Don't tell anyone, but I think they're beautiful, and if given a chance, I'd do it all over again. My only regret is that I didn't make more. - - - the wounds i make with the razorblade are scary. They're big. One looks like a burn. But the others - - white winks from within the gaping edges white eye white monster The eye of the monster. The plague of cutting.

Things have changed. They can never go back to the way they were before. They will not get better. Only worse. Because here she is again. Curled up on the couch, hiding bloody wrists behind stretched jacket sleeves. Mom peeks in from the living room. She sees the papers strewn in their usual disarray across the cushions, the expression of focus that's worn as her daughter labors over the lined pages with a pencil in hand. What my mom doesn't see is how my entire body shakes. Trembling. She doesn't see the disappearing of my fingers inside my sleeve, the scraping of my nails across the split skin. How I flinch, as a result of the delibrate c

and then I found out Nicky was a lie. that he'd never existed in the first place. the nights following, i curled up in bed. it was a period in my life in which everyone i loved lied to me they made promises and they broke them. right. in. my. face. the tears I shed were ones of blood. I've ruled out suicide. No, I want to watch. I want to watch myself fade a w a y. I want my life to slip away through untended wounds and jagged white scars. drops of blood drawn forth by broken promises and my inadequecy. Nicky didn't love me enough to tell me the truth. I wasn't worth even that much to him. --